


Honey (Discontinued)

by kawaii5lyfe



Series: Mausoleum [3]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: AU, Age Difference, Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - After College/University, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Art History, Cigarettes, Drama, Drama & Romance, F/M, Family, Friendship, Gen, Hipsters, Life Drawing, M/M, Modern AU, Parkour, Party, Pre-Slash, Romance, Seattle, Secrets, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-21
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-02-26 11:08:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2649776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kawaii5lyfe/pseuds/kawaii5lyfe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malik and Kadar were two very different sides to the same coin. Altair was painfully reminded of this when the younger of the Al-Sayf brothers appeared on his door step.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Eagle and The Sword

Malik and Kadar were two very different sides to the same coin. Altair was painfully reminded of this when the younger of the Al-Sayf brothers appeared on his door step.

“Hi!” Kadar said brightly. “Can I have a ride?”

Kadar, fashioned after one of those hipster types that crowded in coffee shops, were savvy thrift store shoppers, and infected most of the Greater Northwest, stood with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his black skinny jeans.

“You had to take a bus to get here,” Altair said flatly, resisting the urge to just shut the door in the youth’s face. “Why didn’t you just stay on it?”

Kadar turned his eyes to the right. “Uhh, it’s complicated.” His blue eyes snapped back to meet Altair’s golden stare; an innocent grin on his face. “So can I?

Unlike the older of the two brothers, Kadar was impulsive. Altair assumed some sort of wheatpaste street art or alternative girl with a face full of metal caught his eye that spurned on his detour.

“Depends.” Altair said after a pause.

“I need to go to the SAM.” Kadar replied while adjusting the shoulder strap of his messenger bag.

Altair stared at Kadar for a moment before shutting the door. It was to be expected, Kadar being an Art History major and all, but Altair could not help but chuckle at how fucking stereotypical it was for a hipster kid to spend his Saturday at a museum. He did have to give the kid some credit though. He wasn’t like those irritating type of hipsters that walked around claiming to have known of something before it was popular, chain smoked, or spouting some elitist bullshit.

Altair shrugged into a zip-up hoodie, and grabbed his keys from the dish by the door before opening it again. Kadar had his head bent down, but his baby blues were looking up at Altair through his fringe and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Altair felt irritation prickle his flesh, the kind of annoyance you got with a family member that knew you all too well. Though unrelated, he knew the youth since his birth and grew up alongside his older brother. Malik and Altair were six and seven when Kadar was born. Being an only child himself, Altair regarded Kadar like a sibling, much like he did his younger cousins. He shared Malik’s annoyance when his mother forced Kadar upon them, and he also shared his protectiveness when older boys would pick on him. Kadar was easily likable, and Altair often found himself giving into the boy’s requests, much like he was now. That wasn’t what was irritating Altair as he pressed the button to unlock his Sonata. It was that knowing smile Kadar had sometimes. Unlike his younger cousins which were quick to tattle, Kadar would feign innocence to the older boy’s shenanigans, but he would smile at them in a way that let them know that he knew. The first time Altair had encountered that smile he expected Kadar to pull something like Claudia would, demanding some sort of present to keep her silence. No such request ever came, like knowing of Altair’s, or Malik’s or the Auditore brothers transgressions was enough. But this time the smile on Kadar’s face wasn’t because of a secret that would keep him from being grounded for months, but from the fact that Altair wouldn’t say no to him.

“How often do you go to that place?” Altair asked starting the engine.

“To the museum?” Kadar asked flopping into the passenger seat. “Maybe eight or nine times a month? It really depends on the assignment.”

Kadar pushed up the sleeves of his sweater as they pulled out of the parking garage attached to Altair’s apartment complex. Altair’s eyes swept over the youth’s forearms. They were toned but nowhere near as defined as his own or the older Al-Sayf brother. He remembered sparing a few times with Kadar when he and Desmond had first started their martial arts training. Kadar was graceful, and quick, his movements fluid like ink in water. He didn’t have a lot of power behind his punch, but with the speed of his movements enabled him to land several that would leave stinging welts. Altair inevitably came out the victor and Kadar would laugh at his own demise, an endearing smile on his face. The Master ultimately decided that he, and Desmond, were not ready to complete their training and told them to broaden their knowledge of many things elsewhere.

“Today is the last day of the Seurat exhibit,” Kadar’s voice tore Altair from his reverie. “And with the deadline for my post-impressionism paper looming closer I wanted to see if I could translate some of his Chromoluminarism more eloquently.”

Altair looked away from the road to give Kadar a confused glance.

“Chromo- what?”

“Commonly known as divisionism.” Kadar laughed, eyes curving with his smile.

“Ah, colors mechanically arranged so that the eye organizes the shape.” Altair nodded slowly.

In the corner of his eye he could see Kadar beaming at him. Kadar had always been the type to become easily excited when he found someone with a common interest, or knew anything about art that was worth knowing that wasn’t Leonardo.

“So what other classes are you taking this quarter?” Altair asked looking over at him stopping at a red light.

“Just a life drawing class.” Kadar replied, his eyes sweeping over Altair before quickly looking out the window. “I thought about starting my Archeology courses this term too, but, I’m not Malik. I can’t take three heavy classes and still pull a 4.0 out of my ass.”

Altair snorted and turned his attention back to the road. Both Malik and Kadar were ambitious, but Malik could handle academic stress much better. During their junior year of college Malik had taken 20 credits, and worked nights and still magically maintained a 3.9 grade average. Now at 26 he was working full time and taking his Masters course online, as well as doing his translations for the Brotherhood. Altair struggled to keep his GPA at 3.0 only taking 15 credits and working part-time. In the end he came out of it with his BA in Archeology which he only used when the Brotherhood sent him over seas.

“Let me know if you need any help when you start taking those classes.” Altair said after a pause. “Or if you need books.”

“Dude, that’d be so mint.” Kadar said with a grateful tone.

Altair glanced at Kadar as the early 1980’s slang slipped past his lips. Kadar had his phone out and a smirk played across his face.

“Desmond’s on time for once.” Kadar snorted shaking his head slightly.

“You’re meeting Desmond? At a museum?” Altair asked skeptically as he pulled up to the building in question.

Sure enough Desmond was leaning up against the colossal Hammering Man sculpture chatting with their cousin Claudia. Perplexed, Altair whipped his head around to watch Kadar scramble out of the car. After adjusting his scarf and messenger bag he leaned down and grinned at the older man.

“We’re in the same class, but this is Desmond’s first trip here since the beginning of the quarter. Claudia’s just hanging out until she’s supposed to meet Paola and Annetta at The Market.” Kadar explained quickly. “Thanks for the ride.”

And there was that smile again, accompanied by a mischievous glint in his eye. Before Altair could even respond the passenger side door was shut and Kadar was jogging over to his childhood friends.


	2. Humble Foreshadowing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter in which Kadar deflects Claudia's attempt to set him up on a date.

“Dude, tell me how is it that I’m the one that’s on time and you’re… Is that, Altair?”

Desmond was pushing off the Hammering Man eyes moving from Kadar to the car he came from. Recognition and confusion altered his features and he gave his older cousin an awkward wave.

“Yep. I needed a ride.” Kadar said brightly, hands back in his pockets.

“What the hell?!” Claudia exclaimed riled watching Altair drive off. She quickly unlocked her iPhone, her thumbs moving lightning fast over the screen with what Kadar could only imagine was bitter frustration. “Bitch never gives me a ride anywhere!”

Kadar chuckled at Claudia’s less than loving nickname for her Syrian cousin. Altair, a towering Adonis with a body fit for a Spartan, was anything but, but Kadar couldn’t keep the smirk from creeping across his face.

“But you had to take the bus.” Desmond stated, his brain obviously wrought with confusion.

“Yeah, but I had to get off.” Kadar shrugged noncommittally.

“For your dirty habit?” Claudia interjected still obviously annoyed with Altair.

The dim sunlight that shone through the typical Seattle overcast glimmered across her gold sweater. She was one of those girls that preferred wearing leggings to real pants, and had a tan all year round.  
Though they grew up alongside each other Kadar had found the Auditore girl annoying and did his best to avoid her. It wasn’t until a class trip in middle school did they become friends, and now she was close to Kadar like a sister he was thankful he never had.

Desmond shook his head as a light bulb seemed to go off. “Dude, why didn’t you just wait until you got here?”

“And risk having someone that knows my brother see me?” Kadar asked in a way that implied the answer was obvious. “Fuck that noise.”

Kadar loved and respected his brother, and not just because he could kill him as soon as look at him, but the man was a tight ass. Malik was away at college when Kadar was in high school, but it didn’t stop his older brother from nagging at him through emails to stay on top of his studies. Now that he himself was in college, and sharing an apartment with his older brother nonetheless, he was directly under Malik’s line of fire. Keeping secrets from him was exhilarating almost in the same way that Kadar found free-running. It also kept him in practice with one of The Three Tenets (even if it wasn’t exactly how he was suppose to exercise it).

A brief cheery jingle from Claudia’s phone announced she had received a text, and both Kadar and Desmond looked over at her as she swore loud enough for passersby to stare.

“Quel bastardo inutile (the useless bastard)!” Claudia shouted at her phone. She turned an icy glare at Kadar whose eye brows rose.

“It’s because we’re family,” Desmond rolled his eyes at Claudia. “And Kadar’s got this whole baby face thing going on.”

“Pfft, whatever bro.” Kadar shook his head. “C’mon, let’s go.”

He was already walking past Desmond when Claudia came bustling up and grabbed him by the elbow. There was a brief moment of panic when Kadar turned to look at her, thinking she might punch him in the face for being some sort of magical procurer of rides. Instead she looked both expectant and amused.

She looped her arm around his, and pulled him closer to ask softly, “Don’t you want to wait and see Paola?”

Kadar scanned Claudia’s eyes for moment, a slow smug smile stretching across his face. “Nah, I’m anxious to see those sexy pointillism can-can dancers of Le Chahut.”


	3. Parade de Cirque

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kadar is an art history nerd. It is evident in how he comes to terms with his feelings (kind of) for Altair while studying Seurat.

Sitting in the crowded gallery felt like a small victory to Kadar. Coming to the museum on a weekend, and on the last day of a popular exhibit was something that he would’ve liked to avoid all together, but Desmond was the king of procrastinators and chose today. On top of things, the dummy forgot his student ID and had to use his charm that could only come from having a cousin like Ezio to get the lady at the front desk to give him the student discount anyway.

Kadar sat a little straighter and gave a satisfied sigh. He was able to score a keen spot on one of the little white benches in front of _Circus Sideshow_. The piece was smaller compared to the other major figure paintings, but possessed an allure that seduced Kadar every time he stepped into the gallery. Most of the crowd was situated around the _Bathers at Asnières_ , and _A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte_ , including Desmond.

Eyes sweeping over the nocturnal scene Kadar tried to pinpoint what it was about this particular piece that was so captivating. He tuned his mind to concentrate on the issues Seurat had tackled with color, light and form. Despite being in the forefront, the single performer on the simple stage was cast in shadow much like the rest of the figures in the painting. The only exception was the ringmaster. Kadar tilted his head slightly as he examined the character whose features were the most defined. Certainly having more detail the eye almost seemed trained to find this prominent figure. However, Kadar found his eyes drifting up, above the heads of the ringmaster and the performers to the simple circles of glowing lights of the city.

Kadar leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees with his chin in the palm of his hand, eyes fixed on those yellow orbs. They reminded him of a pair of eyes, piercing even in shadow, like the honey pools of Altair’s.

Fuck. Kadar’s shoulders shook in silent laughter as he pressed his face into the palm of his hand. The reason why this painting entrapped him was because it was like Altair was watching him through it? What a fucking joke. He raised his face to the piece once more with his hand concealing the sheepish grin that refused to leave his face at present.

Golden eyes. A rare, but beautiful, mutation. Sure, Ezio and Desmond shared the same trait, but they could not hold the same fierceness as Altair’s. It was a look that Kadar grew up with, since despite the strained relationship with Malik, Altair always seemed to be around. Kadar admired Altair’s brashness, and skill that came with being a prominent member of the Brotherhood. It was a refreshing change from Malik, who was just as skilled but overly cautious.

It was when he had entered high school that Kadar could feel his feelings of respect for Altair change into something more. He suspected that it started much earlier than that, but he felt the change that day on the free-running course.

He was standing with the other novices of his year, wide eyed and gaping, as they watched Altair demonstrate the course for Rauf. Altair appeared to fly through the course, his feet never seeming to actually touch the obstacles. Kadar was reminded of an eagle during its first moments of flight: the powerful beat of the wings, a fierce gaze on a target in the distance. Everyone’s adrenaline was running high from eagerness and anxiety when Altair cleared the last leap, tumbling forward and jogging across the finish line. They were chattering excitedly while Altair exchanged brief words with Rauf. Kadar watched Altair mesmerized that even immobile the Syrian demanded attention. When Altair’s eyes found his, he wondered what kind of expression he had since the corners of the older man’s mouth twitched up in a phantom smile. Rauf began giving instructions to the novice group and Altair was striding over to Kadar whose heart rate picked up with renewed adrenaline racing through his veins.

Someone was calling his name but it sounded far away as the rest of the world seemed to fade leaving only Altair in its wake. Kadar could feel the heat radiate off his body when Altair stopped inches from him and he could see his skin glisten with light perspiration when the Eagle stooped so his eyes were level with his own. The fierceness of Altair’s gaze sent a shiver down Kadar’s spine, and he wet his lips subconsciously.

“Don’t stop. Just keep your eye on the target and go.” His voice was soft but firm. Kadar felt his chest swell and his stomach fill with butterflies that had nothing to do with the obstacles ahead.

“MISTER AL-SAYF!” Rauf’s shout forced the world back on to Kadar, making him break eye contact with Altair.

“Right! Me. Okay.” He said awkwardly as he made his way to the starting line.

The course clear time was 1 minute 30 seconds, with the record being 1 minute 10 seconds thanks to Altair. The course was multilevel with concrete pylons and bulkheads, shipping containers, and hanging bars. Kadar exhaled slowly positioning himself at the white line at the start of the course. The novice group was murmuring, and Kadar could hear the distant tick of a clock somewhere. In his peripheral vision he could see Rauf, whistle held between his teeth, holding his stopwatch up waiting for the last few seconds to tick by. Kadar closed his eyes and ran through the course in his mind, remembering the way Altair stepped, turned, ran and tumbled. Then there was the whistle and Kadar’s eyes snapped open and his feet left the starting line.

In one swift movement he was up the first wall and sprinting across a maze of beams; his arms held out like a bird about to take flight. The wind he was creating whistled in his ears as he leapt to the next obstacle. His heart was hammering in his chest as he raced halfway up a wall, springing backwards to grasp a hanging bar and swing to land on a pylon. He swore he heard someone whistle but he didn’t allow himself to focus on who it might have been.

The next obstacle was shipping containers stacked high with scarce hand and foot holds. This was where Altair had to slow his momentum and pick a zigzag path up. Kadar decided on a more direct way up and a smirk played across his face; eyes narrowed. He scrambled up the last pylon and leapt onto the tower of containers. His feet found purchase on a narrow ledge and before gravity had a chance to pull him down, he was pushing off, swinging his arm up to grab the next ledge in the way Ezio had taught him.

The climb-leap was a stylized form of scaling that wasn’t taught by the instructors inside the training facility, so the reactions from the novice crowd were not surprising. Kadar allowed himself to grin as he hoisted himself over the edge of the last container. He had at least 5 seconds on Altair’s time and couldn’t wait to see the look on everyone’s face when he crossed the finish line. Altair was somewhat of a legend in the Brotherhood, and though he took time to share his skills, there were few to match or even best his abilities that were not Masters themselves. Kadar’s feet followed the same path Altair’s had taken to the next obstacle and skipped across some high beams. Pushing off he grabbed the last of the hanging bars and swung onto the bulkhead below. He chanced a look over at the group and his eyes immediately found gold amongst the sea of browns, blues and greens.

What might have been in reality a split second felt like an eternity. Kadar found himself under the full force of Altair’s gaze; his golden eyes so brilliant they practically glowed. It was at this moment that Kadar never wanted those eyes to look so intently at anything else but himself. He wanted to be forever suspended in that moment under the fierce gaze of the Eagle. As if reading his mind Altair smirked, and Kadar sucked in a sharp breath as his body betrayed him. His legs seized in his crouching position from where he landed on the bulkhead, refusing to budge.

“Shit!” Kadar breathed as he tumbled off the side of the obstacle.

He heard both surprised and scared cries as he fell six feet landing painfully on his side. Squeezing his eyes shut he slowly rolled on to his back mentally assessing the damage. After assuming nothing was broken, just badly bruised Kadar laughed at himself out loud. He had fallen-quite literally-for the man he admired and respected most.

“Dude, it’s getting crowded in here.”

Desmond’s voice tore Kadar from his reverie. Kadar sat up to look over his shoulder at his oldest friend.

“Take my spot.” Kadar said while standing, readjusting his messenger bag.

“Can’t… Can’t we like, go do something else?” Desmond mumbled giving the gallery an uncomfortable glance.

“If you ask to use my notes for your paper, you owe me big.” Kadar replied edging around a couple to stand next to Desmond.

“It’s just a bunch of strategically placed dots. Besides, there are other painters I could focus on for that stupid paper.” Desmond half yawned leading the way out into the main corridor.

Kadar gave Desmond a skeptical glance. “Other painters, huh? Name one.”

Desmond tilted his head back a little as they weaved between other museum goers, his brow furrowed as he racked his brain. “Van Gogh?”

“Lucky guess.” Kadar snorted.

As they headed down the steps Kadar fished his phone from his pocket a moment before it vibrated to announce a text message. He had a strange affinity with his phone; he had as sort of six sense for when he was about to receive texts or calls and always managed to pick it up at the precise moment. He frowned at Claudia’s name on the screen as he unlocked it.

‘Paola was sad she didn’t get to see you ;)’

Kadar heaved a sigh and pocketed his phone, looking up in time to avoid running into a group of chattering tourists. Sure, Paola was hot and had a fantastic set of tits, but she was a fire he was not willing to play with.

“How do you do it?” Desmond asked, who when Kadar looked over was frowning at his own phone.

“Do what?” “Get Altair to do shit for you.”

“What, did you just ask him for a ride or something?” Kadar laughed.

“No,” Desmond pocketed his phone as he gave Kadar a critical look. “It’s just like, pulling teeth to get anything from him.”

Kadar shrugged as they came to a stop at a crosswalk. “Maybe it has something to do with me not being related. Or my brother hates him, or something.”

The truth was Kadar had never thought about it before, as to why Altair did things for him. Kadar never asked for anything unreasonable, and he knew Malik didn’t really hate Altair so that was a shit reason. Kadar had always figured it was because he had grown up with Altair’s baby cousins and considered him like family. And then he thought of the most ridiculous, outlandish reason he could think of. Maybe it was because Altair liked him. The butterflies immediately took flight and Kadar felt his face flush as his heart skipped a beat at the possibility.

“Dude, you alright?”

Desmond was standing in the crosswalk, parting the sea of pedestrians as he looked at Kadar.

“Uuh, yep.” Kadar said stupidly and followed after. He shook his head slightly, trying to shake the ridiculous thought from his mind. There was no way Altair could know that he left that way about him, so there was no way Altair could share his feelings. Right?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm slowly moving (most) everything over from fanfiction.net. Also, I hate summaries.


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